


New Dawn

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: “You need sleep, so do I,” she was smiling, not at all surprised “c'mere.”





	1. Chapter 1

She found him in the conference room, sitting on the table with his feet on the seat of a chair. His coat and tie draped over the back of it, shirtsleeves rolled up, hair a mess. The room reeked of stale coffee and two dozen men, who passed through it since they arrived around 8am, or rather 19 hours ago. It was day 4 of the manhunt and 16 hours since the last disappearance was reported to the police.  
“What am I missing here, Scully?” He said, without looking away from the cork board, full of gruesome crime scene photos. Victims drowned and cut up, bodies dumped into the river, half eaten by fish and swollen with decay. The autopsies will give her nightmares for weeks. “Why does he need to drown and dismember them?”  
He looked at her and the shadow on his cheeks gave them a sunken look, eyes bloodshot, the circles beneath made them dark and empty. He was running on fumes.  
“Come with me,” she said, wrapping one hand around his elbow.  
“Where to?” He asked, but was already getting up, like a child.  
“Not far,” she assured but he stopped, her hand still on his arm.  
“I can’t leave now, time is working against us.” He didn’t shake her off so she turned around, slipped her hand down to take his hand. She looked him straight in the eye, soft expression asking for his trust.  
“You have to,” she said, gently squeezing his hand, before letting go and walking out. Mulder followed.

The night was warm, early May filled the air with scent of trees and young grass. The keys jangled in Scully’s hand, Mulder took shotgun without question. She pulled out of the parking lot and took the first right. They drove in silence, windows rolled three inches down. Nothing but blinking, orange lights at the three intersections they passed.  
She parked in a free spot by the park, turned the engine off and to Mulder’s surprise, got out only to open the doors to the back seat of the car.  
“C'mere,” she said getting in. He would have asked why, but her heels thudded softly on the floor making it clear this wasn’t about work. Getting out and looking around, he found no one in sight. The night was calm and dark, nothing but the wind rustling through young leaves. Storm was coming, or so said the weather man.  
When he got in she scooted back, as far she could, leaning against the door with one arm stretched out.  
“You wanna cuddle?” He joked, but she nodded.  
“You need sleep, so do I,” she was smiling, not at all surprised, “c'mere.”  
She drew him in, stepping over his doubts, guiding hands on his shoulders to lean back against her front, head on her shoulder. They fumbled a little, shifting around, she folded her legs on the seat, he kicked of his shoes, bent one leg to fit better in the small space of the Ford’s back seat. The windows stayed open, and once they found their spots, Scully folded her arms around him, and he covered her hands with his palms, closing the loop with a heavy sigh.  
She was warm, and he focused on that, on her hands and her breath. Her arms were so small that there was no room for work left, he didn’t feel like sharing anyway.  
“This is nice,” he said quietly, stroking her knuckles.  
“Shhh, try to sleep,” moving a fraction, her lips brushed his temple, “20 minutes.”  
“You too,” he chuckled, but glancing down, she saw his eyes fall shut.  
He was heavy, 6 foot tall frame wrapped in a pretzel didn’t help, but they didn’t have time for anything else, time did work against them. The moment she walked in, she saw the wall he was climbing, finding more questions than answers as his mind kept running in circles. Now she felt him relax, could almost hear his thoughts gear down, heart slow down. She matched her breathing to his and closed her eyes.

The wind played among the trees carrying the scent of lilac, a lark’s song drifted through the park, heralding dawn. Mulder let go of her hand only to pull her coat around them.  
He didn’t sleep, but drifted, letting the thoughts flow unhindered. Fishermen, the river, the dam, images in his head, floating around. A boat house up the stream, abandoned, yet clean. Suspiciously clean.  
The sky started to change colors and Mulder gave himself and Scully five more minutes, to enjoy her arms around him. She was right, he needed this.


	2. Chapter 2

Case closed, the girl saved, it was almost midnight, when they came back to the motel. They worked on autopilot, adrenalin that kept them going until now, gone.  
The night was warm, very much like the night before. Air washed by rain smelled of wet asphalt and spring, that heady scent of new life and new beginnings. If someone lifted the roof and peeked inside the rooms, he would witness a synchronized routine. Shoes toed off, heels thumping on the floor, shirts pulled off not bothering with buttons, pants hung over the back of the chair. Mirrored rituals of basic human priorities. Rest.  
The connecting doors were never fully closed, privacy a sign of respect, no need for rules other than a knock.  
The bathrooms were small, but the water was hot and washed away the stress. The hurting feet, eyes too heavy to stay open fully, tense shoulders unknotting slowly. By the time they brushed their teeth like good kids, they felt almost human. The sharp focus of working a case, evaporated with steam that made the bathroom air hard to breathe, losing to fresh night air rushing in. 

Scully climbed into bed. Her silk pj's, lose pants and short sleeves, made even the lumpy pillow and polyester comforter feel tolerable. The bed was large, almost as big a the one at home, but the mattress was uneven, the dents didn't fit her proportions and she felt twisted, something she didn't notice before. Tossing and turning she tried to find the spot she slept in before. Unsuccessfully. 

Mulder pulled on his usual cotton pants and t-shirt, loose and thin but decent. Ankles crossed and arms pillowing his head, he stared at the ceiling. Seeing the light in her room go dark he whispered a quiet goodnight.

Mulder's mind however, was far from calm, kept replaying the images of the boat house, the dead leaves, the girl curled up in the corner, terrified and squinting. Why was it always women? Why those who gave love and life and care to others, had to be made into victims instead of being cherished for who they were, wonderful human beings, worthy of everything good and beautiful the world had to offer.  
He couldn't help that cases like this, always brought back memories of times when Scully was taken, despite of her strength, intelligence and training. It could always be her. He never told her, but the images haunted him with primal fear. No training could turn of the need to protect the one closest to him, it was instinct. In a fight, or in the field she was his equal, he didn't worry about her, but when she became the focus for a psychopath, his only hope was that her training kept her alive until he found her.  
So now the images came back, of her fighting Tooms, her first unexpected assailant on his watch. The fact she stayed and continued to work with him after that. The flashing lights outside her trashed apartment after Duane Barry. Her terrified face in the trunk of his car. Scully in the hospital, in a coma, and her mother placing her trust in him. Fear and hope mixed irrationally. He tossed and turned, but despite being bone tired, the lumpy pillow and worn out mattress made sleep impossible. 

He got up and went to the window, watched wind make branches sway and cast flowing shadows in the light of street lamps. Warm air smelled vaguely of rain and dust washed away, and flowers, the scent that seemed to follow them all week, wherever they went.  
The scent he will now always associate with Scully taking care of him. Of her small arms keeping him warm and the comfort she brought with it. Never before had he let anyone do this, pull him away from work, make the decision for him, when to take a step back to regain control. Only Scully had that much power.  
Turning away from the window, he saw the connecting doors slightly open. Four steps to the right and leaning on the doorframe, he peeked inside to make sure she was alright. She turned around to face him and he was sure she caught him in the act. Their eyes met and he smiled sheepishly.  
"Sorry," he whispered, ready to fall back, "I didn't mean to wake you."  
"You didn't." She tucked one hand under the pillow and stopped him in his tracks.  
"Can't sleep?" he asked, chancing a step inside, then another.  
Scully scooted a little to make room for him on the bed. "Too tired I guess."  
He sat down and took in her soft smile and tone, one he usually heard at night on the phone. Was that what she looked like when he called her in the middle of the night? The thought was a dangerous one. Shoptalk was safe ground. "You think the girl will be alright?"  
"She will be, in time." Scully took his hand, squeezed gently, "you saved her, Mulder."  
"We did," he corrected, squeezing back, "if you hadn't dragged me out last night, made me take a step back, we'd never have gotten to her on time."  
"I can't imagine you did this for years," it was her turn to look sheepish, "I saw what profiling does to you."  
"Sleep is the first thing that goes out the window." He kept her hand in his, now stroking her knuckles gently, "sometimes for weeks. Having someone close helps, or so I heard." Back then it didn't, but 20 minute nap in the car with Scully changed everything for him. "How are you dealing with it, Scully?"  
"I'm fine," she assured reflexively, though the image of dismembered bodies, limbs missing, haunted her. Respect for the remains was deeply ingrained in her, not only as a forensic pathologist, but a person of faith. "I just can't sleep," she conceded shyly.  
"May I?" he didn't know, what made him do it, but once she nodded, he reached for the edge of the comforter and got into bed next to her, "c'mere."  
Reaching for her with arms open, he panicked for a second when she turned away from them, only to change side and rest her back against his front. Holding on, they rearranged the pillows and limbs and sheets a little, making themselves comfortable.  
Now the pillows no longer felt lumpy, the mattress weighed down took the shape of his body and there she fitted perfectly. Mulder couldn't stop the urge to breathe her in, pull her closer and find her hand to hold in his. He thought that being held by her in the car was great, but her trusting him like this, was the closest thing to love he felt in years. He could feel her sigh and relax into his arms, disposing with need to explain why. They relished the warmth, again focusing on each other, letting their senses take over thoughts, dispersing clouds and remains of the day. The silence stretched, their eyes closed, there was no time frame, no rush, just the wind outside and hearts slowing down.  
"Thank you." She whispered, lacing their fingers together and the simple words never made him happier.  
He hugged her lightly and sighed "goodnight, Scully."


	3. Chapter 3

She walked down the isle from the restrooms and saw him stretched out in his seat, as much as economy class would allow. He slept, exhausted by the case no doubt. They managed to get some sleep last night but it seemed, for Mulder it wasn't enough. Drink in a plastic cup was a rare thing, he never drank, unless the case hit him hard. He didn't show it earlier, not when they slept in the car, nor when he came to her room and held her through the night. Before, she saw exhaustion and intuited the rest, this was hard evidence. Scully slipped into the third, vacant seat and lifted the armrest slowly. 

Mulder stirred and glanced at her beneath sleep heavy eyelids.  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." She said softly and he shook his head, dismissing it.  
"The case?" she gestured with the cup; he shrugged. Alcohol did nothing to calm him, only made his doze fitful and gave him weird dreams. Besides, he had a new thing, two out of two, it worked like a charm. His right hand twitched, a turn of the wrist, and when his fingers opened she took it, stroking the back of it gently. 

He couldn't stop thinking of the victims, their families on a long way to healing. He couldn't help them, catching the killer didn't bring their loved ones back, but at least they had some closure, some measure of justice. He saved one girl, out of seven.  
Having lost so many things in life, come so close to the truth just to have it snatched from his grasp, he was tired. Tired of the letdowns, tired of running around, yelling that sky was falling when no one was looking up, but most of all he was tired of facing it alone.  
No one but Scully, his only ally and hope. He was buried neck deep in debt of gratitude towards her. She stood by him, she fought battles with him, she saved him and she cared for him.  
He was one lucky SOB to have her walk through his door that day years ago and every day since. Despite loss and pain he caused her, she stood by him, his only constant, his touchstone. He owed her everything. Yet still, she wasn't his, he could lose her and go back to having nothing.  
That thought must have brought her to him. Like when she pulled him out of the spiral, or last night, when she let him hold her. He never slept so good in his life. 

Scully watched him hold her hand, some train of thought that seemed dangerous to her. Mulder was prone to extreme blues, usually getting too invested in things that ended in nothing. But even with the case being a small victory and his profile saving lives, here he was, lost in the dark maze of his thoughts.  
It cost her nothing to pull at his hand with an encouraging smile. She folded one leg under herself and like that, Mulder read her intent. Pushing the armrest up and the bag to the floor, he laid down his head in her lap. The lights in the cabin dimmed and they managed to rearrange things so that he laid on his back across all three seats. Scully turned off the overhead spotlight and pulled the jacket over him, but he refused to let go, taking her hand and hiding it beneath the makeshift blanket with his.  
Feeling his each breath, warm hand covering hers over his heart. She found a faint pulse, an echo of her own perhaps. Mulder looked up at her, his expression instantly easier. She held his gaze as she smoothed the rest of the frown of his forehead, combing fingers through his hair, deliberately slow and tender.  
Closing his eyes, and giving in to her touch he said softly, "you're making an addict out of me." Taken by surprise she froze, but he leaned into her palm, pleading "don't stop."  
"How so?" she resumed her task.  
"You make me crave something I should not want." He explained, only half joking, but making her smile.  
"Which is?" she leaned her head on the seat, stifling a yawn of her own.  
"You," he felt the warmth weigh him down, "doing this, each night."  
"Oh, that," Scully sighed and closed her eyes. "How about what I want?"  
"What do you want, Scully?" her name came mumbled. She settled in, focusing on the path and the silky texture under her palm.  
"I want to sleep," she sighed, feeling him nod, "we'll talk when we land, 'kay?"  
Silence. A steady breath.  
The hum of engines and stale cabin air, none of it bothered them. They slept.

**Author's Note:**

> for mulders-boyish-enthousiasm on tumblr, who asked for the fluffiest headcanons.


End file.
